Just a Vampire?
by elmaa
Summary: Imagine a vampire, living in 19th century England. Imagine his daily struggle, alone and unwanted, he tries to make his way through his ‘life’. Until he meets her… My own char. and originally written for a gothic genre story. rated T for gothic scene


**Like I said, this was originally made for an english creative writing task for gothic and i MAY have put it in the wrong place but i decided that since twilight probably inspired it and the fact that i have read it reflects in this story (my teacher even asked me if i had read twilight. LOL and then she told me she could see its influence.-- NOT INTENTIONAL! not my fault that twilight affected me so much .) so yeah, no copyright intended ^^**

**Oh and, my vampires follow the more stereotypical 'vampire traits'. (it was a gothic story... had to make it gothic .)**

**(oh and if you don't know me. I am NOT a very gothic person. (and wearing black nail polish apparently didn't make me look any more gothic .) LOL [I'm more the sappy, romantic type ^^] so its amazing that I even was able to think of this, let alone write it but i thought that it might be a bit scary for young readers =/ (which is why its T)  
but if you're not young (my definition of young is basically still in primary/elementary) then read on! ~**

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Henry had been watching the bird struggle for a while now. He watched as it tried again and again to reach the nest from whence it fell. He watched its endeavors, and its agony became his own. If only the sun that would burn him on its exposure to his skin would set. If it were not for that accursed sun, he would have helped the miserable bird long ago.

But he could not- he was a vampire. He should not even want to help the bird. But he did, and its desperate little cries tore right through him.

He heard footsteps. He tore himself away from watching the bird's suffering and ran up the tree- hiding under the thick canopy leaves.

'Hey Mummy, look at that bird!' A small child crouched and pointed to the bird lying on the ground.

'Don't touch that filthy creature!'

The mother slapped the boy's reaching hands away. The boy stopped reaching and peered at the little bird. He discerned the blood staining the bird's wing- the dark red a stark contrast to the pale brown of the feathers.

'Mummy, the bird is gross!' the boy cringed and turned away. He hastily stood up and ran away from the offending bird.

The mother sighed and quickly walked after the boy.

Henry watched with abhorrence. Humans were, by rule, compassionate and caring creatures.

Well, they were supposed to be at least.

He eyed their retreating figures with aversion but then, he realized he was being unreasonable. He was only saying those things because _he _wished he was human. He was jealous. He did not choose to become a vampire. He did not _want _to be a monster. He wanted to be human, but what defined being human? Having a pumping heart, a soul? Or was it compassion?  
Was not that what distinguished man from animal?

Henry pondered these thoughts as nightfall descended, casting a gloomy shadow over the archaic woodland immediately before him and over the brilliant cathedrals and structures beyond. Henry leaped from his hiding place and darted to help the bird but stopped mid-step.

It was then that he saw her.

Her lustrous dark hair cascaded past her shoulders and framed her large eyes. Her dark hair contrasted with her pale skin but there was something about the way her eyes widened in shock, the way her full lips parted to give an exclamation of surprise at seeing the bird suffer. There was something captivating about her- something that Henry could not look away from. He watched as she tore the sleeve of her delicate muslin gown to create a makeshift sling for the pitiful creature. It was then he recognised what made her so captivating, so mesmerizing.  
She was beautiful.

Never had Henry beheld such beauty throughout all his years of existence. He watched as she tore another strip from her sleeve and gently began to wipe its blood. Ignoring the craving that the scent of blood incited, he watched as she caressed the bird softly in her hands. Henry would never take blood from a living, breathing creature. The bird feebly opened and closed its eyes, sighing contentedly at her touch. She carefully lifted up the bird and returned it to its nest. He had never seen such kindness in a human being.

He hastened to get away from her. Nothing good could come from associating with humans. He knew this. Yet, despite his knowledge of that fact, he wanted to be acquainted with her. He wanted to get to know her, to know the reason for her kindness. He shook his head, dispelling thoughts of her as he ran, following his nightly routine.

It was dinnertime and no human would disrupt the routine that had been created over years and years of repetition. He ran into town and scaled a wall in three seconds flat. He then proceeded to jump from roof to roof, making his daily rounds, then heading towards the cemetery where he would feed. He moved fast- to avoid being noticed by anyone. And it was as he was making his way through the streets of 19th century London that he saw her again.

He saw her through a window, the open curtain fluttering gently in the soft breeze. Her room was lit only by candlelight. The shadows danced across the wall, illuminating her silhouette. Henry subconsciously stopped to watch her. She was sitting in front of an ornately carved mirror. She picked up a brush with her long, slender fingers and then proceeded to brush her abundant hair. She hummed a sweet melody whilst doing so and only Henry's sensitive ears enabled him to hear it. He crept closer to her window- using shadows so that he would not be seen. He watched her. She put the brush down and seemed to sigh. He watched her reflection frown to itself in the mirror. He wished he knew the cause of her frown, so that he could take it away. So that he could make her smile.

'Emmeline!' a deep male voice hollered.

Henry observed as she stiffened, as she drew her shawl protectively around her cowering shoulders. Henry wondered why she was so scared. He watched as a large man entered the room.

'Emmeline,' the man leered, displaying a truly repulsive set of teeth. 'Now don't be difficult, darling.'

The man stepped closer.

She stepped back.

The man reached out a hand to grab her and a small scream escaped from her lips as he ripped off her sleeve, displaying her bare arm.

'Damn,' he muttered. 'I missed.'

Emmeline's eyes widened as she realized his intentions.

'No, sir,' She pleaded, her voice breaking. 'Please don't do this.'

The horrible man only smiled again at her helplessness.

'This is the only way.' he explained. 'Nobody will take a fallen woman. After this, you and your lousy father will _have_ to accept me. And the best part? Nobody will hear you scream.' He broke off laughing.

He stepped forward and hauled her over his shoulders, carrying her away. She wept as she struggled to break out of his firm grasp, but it was to no avail. He was too strong. As she gave her last desperate sob before fainting, something snapped inside of Henry.

The coils of his silent heart turned once more and he realized he could not just stand by and watch this happen.

Henry roared as he revealed his hiding place outside the window. He seized Emmeline from the assailant's shoulders and placed her on his own before the man could blink. Henry placed her carefully on the cold floor. An observer might have noted the way he held her, the way he softly laid her head on the floor and might have realized that this girl meant a lot to him, despite being a vampire. They might have noted how he gently caressed her and put her down somewhat lovingly. Luckily for Henry, no observer was there to witness his great flaw as his actions, unbeknownst to him, proved that he _so much _for a simple _human._

Henry rose fluidly and the brute only had time to tilt his large, ugly head to the side, as he slowly registered the situation, before Henry hit him. An ear-splitting crack echoed throughout the room as bones broke. Henry smiled; the poor guy did not stand a chance.

Blow after blow followed as Henry then proceeded to immobilize the person who had come so close to hurting Emmeline. His facial features were contorted in anger and his mind was filled with rage as he hit him again and again. The bloodlust and desire to cause the man pain was unmistakable in his vivid red eyes. His next hit sent the brute colliding into a glass mirror. Blood dripped from the large gash in the back of the fiend's head as he lost consciousness. While the blood ignited the vampire part of Henry and his thirst began to burn, the anger melted away. What had he become? He was truly a monster now. Henry gaped at his hands, appalled, as he observed the damage he had done.

The man was unconscious, blood trickling from the wound in his head, his leg twisted at an awkward angle. Henry turned to look at Emmeline, hoping that she was still passed out and had missed his horrific display of violence. He had no such luck as her frightened gaze met his. Her eyes were widened in fear and Henry could only wonder at the horrors he had unintentionally revealed to her. They stared at each other's eyes for a long moment- his eyes fading from a glowing red to a dull black and her large eyes a stunning green.

'Thank you,' she whispered. Abruptly, Emmeline's piercing gaze faltered as she sank back into unconsciousness and Henry, released from her mesmerizing gaze, fled into the night.

The last rays of the waning sun tinged the horizon spectacular shades of purple, red and gold as it set. It was another night. But for Henry, being nocturnal as he was, it was the start of another day.

He watched the setting sun with apprehension, worried that his great thirst would overcome him. He needed to feed, _now._ If an unsuspecting human were to walk past then Henry would lose all control and feast upon its amazingly appealing blood. The human would die and Henry would have its life on his conscience. He did not want that to happen. He had lived too long his life of abstinence for him to give up now. Henry hurried to the cemetery, avoiding anything that may tempt him before reaching his destination. He tore past Emmeline's home, where she sat, gazing out her window, her eyes staring into the distance.

As he passed her, time seemed to slow. Her figure was illuminated by the moonlight, and her eyes locked into his. She jumped back, startled and then fled from her window, out of the room and into the darker shadows of the house. Henry slowed as he digested this. She had run away from him, she could not even bear to look at him. Henry stopped, emotion coursing through his body. He wanted to cry but no tears would come. He slowed to a human pace; he did not feel like running anymore. What had he done? This, surely, was proof that she hated him now.

Henry meandered his way to the cemetery, lost in emotions he should no longer feel. His thirst did not bother him as much anymore, indifferent as he was to them compared to his overwhelming depression. But he knew that once he had a grip of himself, the thirst would come back, burning as much as ever, so he made his way to a newly dug grave.

He walked slowly, not really caring about anything. He dug up the grave and a human watching would have thought he did it amazingly fast, but this was only a fraction of what he could do.

He dug until he found the corpse and then lifted it up.

He inhaled the scent of the blood.

It was still fresh- no more than a few hours had elapsed since the person passed away.

That was good.

Because the organs were no longer working, and the blood no longer pumping, the quickest way to the blood was not through the neck.

He tore open the corpse's chest, exposing blood, organs and veins. Blood ran freely,staining his pale hands. He licked his fingers, and felt his teeth sharpen into deadly points. Blood trickled sluggishly down his mouth. He licked his bloodstained lips, the dark red contrasting with his colourless lips- his thirst returning and overpowering all other thoughts now that blood was in front of him.

He lowered his head and drank from the gash he had made- draining the corpse of all its blood.

A gasp echoed throughout the cemetery. Henry's heightened senses detected it to be close to him. He stopped devouring the corpse and lifted his head- his eyes red again. The figure stumbled forward, she was now only inches away from him, her perfect features revealing the horror and fear she felt as she watched him, as she was mesmerized by his supernatural splendour. Helplessly, Emmeline watched like prey locked into the eyes of a predator, her eyes wide and her face ashen as she watched him feast.

She was fascinated by him. As a child she had been told stories about vampires- but she had never believed them. They were merely children's stories after all, told to frighten disobedient children into obeying.

But this was real.

The person who had saved her was not human- she knew that. She had waited all day for him to come by again and then, when she saw him, she rushed off to follow wherever he was going. Where did not matter, as long as she saw him again.

She followed him to the cemetery, watched as he dug open a grave and as he tore open a human chest, as he licked his bloodstained fingers and bent down to press his mouth across the gash he had torn. And an involuntary gasp escaped her lips as she watched him, her _saviour, _drink blood mere inches in front of her. Emmeline saw his eyes, so red at first, blacken as he realised her presence, as he realised she had been audience to his actions.

And then her body shut down. Unable to comprehend these images, she fell to the cold, dark floor- the face of a bloodstained _vampire _embedded into her mind.

Henry saw the fear and horror in her eyes as she had gasped and then fainted. Why him? Why did _he_ have to be a vampire, be a monster? He did not choose to be a vampire. He would trade anything to have his humanity back. To no longer be abhorred whenever people found out what he truly was.

But what did it mean to be truly human?

Was one defined by what they were, or by what they did?

Henry had saved her, yet she could not look at him without fear entering her expression. He had denied his true hunger for taking blood from living creatures because he thought it wrong to take a life and yet, it was not enough. He still evoked the emotion of horror or fear whenever he was looked at. Why?

Why did she have to look at him like that?

.

_I love her..._

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**so, spare a second to tell me wacha think? :]**

**[btw, it's labelled 'horror' cos i couldn't find a gothic option! D: so don't kill me if you were expecting a full horror-fest, but you can give me pointers on how to write gothic/horror if you want ^^]**

**oh and please go easy on me because this story holds a special place in my heart [one of the few english things that I liked how it turned out- they never turn out how i imagined them- but i actually like this one! T_T]**


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